


The Fourth Man

by misura



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Captivity, Gen, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"D'Artagnan will probably be here soon," Porthos said, a little pointedly.</p><p>"Well, if he'd wanted to rescue us, he should have hurried a bit more," Constance said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fourth Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smokefall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokefall/gifts).



"Trust me, gentlemen," the Count said, twirling his mustache, "you will talk. You might ... provide me with some sport first, some amusement, but sooner or later, I assure you, you will talk."

Setting aside the small detail of their present circumstances, Porthos figured that what they should take away from this particular speech was that there were two bright spots.

Firstly, he'd been totally right about no man with that sort of mustache being on the level, and Aramis owed him ten livres.

"We are Musketeers," Athos said. "We will not talk."

Aramis cleared his throat. "Say rather: we will not talk about anything that Monsieur the Count would wish to hear."

"Well, we might discuss his execution," Athos said. "The undoing of all of his ill-considered, badly-executed plans - no offense to you, of course, Monsieur. Still, one imagines these are subjects that may be of interest to you."

"Yes, but ... here and now?"

"Perhaps ... some travel stories?" Athos proposed. "I do have quite a nice store of those - happy to share in order to while away the hours while we wait for our friends."

"And here I was all happy things were going to be _quiet_ around here for a while." Porthos groaned. "Talk about empty promises. What's a man got to do for some peace?"

Athos and Aramis exchanged looks.

"Die?" Athos said.

"A bit radical, perhaps," Aramis said. "Adequate, though."

"Your ... friend seems a bit quiet," the Count said, which was unfortunately observant of him. "Perhaps he does not share your courage, hm? Your ... willingness to suffer for your king?"

"Cold," Athos said, at the same time Aramis said, "Fever," while Porthos said, "Mute."

"A ... gravely inflicted individual," the Count said, and smiled a very unpleasant little smile. "Guards. If you please, fetch me that man over there, will you?"

"You're making a mistake," Aramis said, which was true, and the second bright spot.

Unfortunately, the way things were going, it wouldn't be true for very much longer.

"I think - " the Count said, and then there was a very loud bang, which came as such a surprise it took Porthos nearly three seconds to remember the guards, and the fact that heavy chains made pretty good weapons, in a pinch.

 

"Did I kill him?" Constance asked. She was a bit pale.

Porthos imagined she'd probably looked a bit pale when she'd shot the Count, too. Hadn't stopped her. "Naw," he said. "Just knocked him out for a bit."

Athos did that thing with his eyebrows he did whenever he felt that Aramis was laying on the flattery a bit too thick to be believable anymore. (He was usually wrong.)

"Oh," Constance said, and then she sat down rather heavily. Porthos scowled a _see?_ at Athos, who shrugged. "Good. I mean, he was horrible. Wasn't he?"

"Not the finest example of French nobility, I'd agree," Athos said.

"Still, usually best to leave his kind to the law," Aramis said. "No need for a lovely lady to get her hands dirty," which was pushing it, Porthos felt, for all that this _was_ Aramis.

"D'Artagnan will probably be here soon," he said, a little pointedly.

"Well, if he'd wanted to rescue us, he should have hurried a bit more," Constance said.

"He'll probably be glad to see we're all still in one piece," Athos said - very diplomatically, Porthos thought. "I don't think that he'd ever have forgiven himself, had any harm befallen you. Or us."

"I'm a grown woman." Constance proudly lifted her head. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Let us not forget you had a pistol," Athos said. "That helped."

"They took all of ours," Porthos said. "Generally a smart thing to do, disarming your prisoners."

"It was hidden," Constance said. "I have another one. And a dagger."

"If they'd found those things on you - " Athos started, no doubt with the best of intentions, and all that.

"Do you think I'm some sort of fool?" Constance snapped. Post-battle nerves, Porthos'd bet. She'd grow out of them, in time. "Some idiot?"

Aramis coughed. Athos blinked. "I assure you - "

"Where'd you got them?" Porthos asked.

"My clothes," Constance said. "I had sewn some special pockets in them. For ... emergencies."

"Which, I'm sure we can all agree, this was," Porthos said.

Athos looked like he wanted to say something moderately stupid. Porthos caught his gaze and shook his head. "Quite."

"Perhaps we could wait for d'Artagnan outside," Aramis suggested, offering Constance his arm.

She took it with a faint smile, which would have slightly disturbed Porthos, except that he knew that smile, and it wasn't the one Aramis's conquests tended to give him.

Instead, it was the one he gave Aramis himself, on occasion, or Athos, and they, him.

 

"So I guess we've just gotten ourselves another uncommissioned Musketeer."

"Treville won't like it," Athos said.

 _And you don't, either?_ Porthos wanted to ask, but didn't. "Because she's a woman?"

"Because she's a woman with two pistols and one dagger concealed on her person."

Porthos considered. "She said she sewed in some extra pockets, especially for them."

"And?"

"We wear clothes, too, you know?"

"Really?" Athos asked. "I was under the impression we generally walked around in the nude."

Porthos snorted. "Bit nippy, don't you think?"

"You're saying that she might do for us what she has done for herself."

"It's an idea."

Athos looked to the stairway. From above, faintly, came the sound of hooves. "It might even be a good one."

"So do we tell him?" Porthos asked. "d'Artagnan?"

"And spoil the surprise? Don't be ridiculous."


End file.
